


Caution Tape Advised

by contronym



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Drag Queens, F/F, F/M, Glitter, San Francisco, don't ever take me seriously pls, rainbowz, self-indulgent "writing" "practice", which is a joke in and of itself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:44:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contronym/pseuds/contronym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story chronicling the most dysfunctional krew stumbling haphazardly into their twenties and drag.</p><p>Where's the caution tape when you need it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bolin meets Opal (aka, A Wild Prologue Appeared?!)

**Author's Note:**

> huge shout out and thanks to the incredibly talented jorlau for breezing through this so that no one's eyes would self-immolate upon reading
> 
> inspired by SF shenanigans and Bolin miserably sporting Eska's robes in Season 2
> 
> but really, there is no excuse for this. I've fallen into the korrasami trash heap. and really wanted an excuse for Bolin to be in a pencil skirt. if you want me burned at the stake, I 100% understand and agree and brought the lighter and tape just in case

_Am I a freak for dancing around?  (Queen)_

_Am I a freak for getting down?  (Queen)_

_I’m cutting up, don’t cut me down_

_And yeah I wanna be, wanna be (Queen)_

-        Q.U.E.E.N., Janelle Monae

 

* * *

 

"You are  _absolutely sure_  we don’t have any other options left?" Bolin begged anxiously, eyes wide and bottom lip quivering.

"C’mon, Bo – aren’t you always ranting about how your big acting break is so long overdue?" Mako suggested.

“When I said I want to get my acting career ‘off the ground’, throwing on heels wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” Bolin pouted, slumping his shoulders and scowling into the corner of the tiny apartment.  "You are SO lucky I love you guys.  And this team."

"Killer Mako impression, Bo!" Korra teased lightly, trying to appease her disgruntled comrade.  "I didn't even know you could frown.  I thought you – how did Lin put it,” Korra crossed her arms and gruffed “‘shamelessly vacillate between insufferably cheerful and crying hysterically’."

"Well, just wait until tonight – apparently, my ‘shameless’ pride is gonna laugh and cry us all the way to the bank, and into the tournament."

"I don't know if 'pride' is the word you want to use in this situation, Bo..."

" _Can. It_. Mako."

 

* * *

 

And so, that was how Korra and Mako wound up giving Bolin a makeover in a Castro District Taco Bell bathroom on what would be an otherwise banal Tuesday evening.

After storming through a potentially awkward altercation (instigated by an appalled woman confronting Korra over entering the men's restroom, to which Korra characteristically replied by flipping the bird and declaring, "It's pretty much pre-qualifying criteria to grow some balls in order to use these public restrooms, lady - and besides, we are in San Francisco, for fuck's sake."), the crew found themselves in their entirely unnatural habitat, featuring Mako reluctantly applying eyeliner upon his surprisingly cooperative sibling.

“I still think wearing the scarf will bring in more tips,” Mako insisted, eyes focused on the critical task at hand.

“Mako, even  _dudes_  wouldn’t like that ratty old thing – this is why you’re single,” Bolin claimed authoritatively.

“Bolin, we are all single.”

“Oh god, don’t tell anyone that tonight,” Bolin said, waving his hands nervously.  “Korra, I designate you as my official anti-wingman.  I don’t want to get eaten alive out there.”

"You are being so brave." Korra announced proudly from the top of a stall. 

"Korra…?"  Mako inquired, not having to complete his question.

"The powder attacked me."  She shuddered at the memory as she laid out atop a graffitied stall divider, head propped on her hands.  "I scaled the stall strictly for security purposes, surely you understand."

"But Korraaa,” Bolin whined, “I need foundation - my right profile is really struggling."

"Fine, fine." Korra mumbled, effortlessly leaping to the tile floor.  She reached for the powder pad, muscles tensing.  Staring it down like an arch-nemesis, she snarled, "This fight is not over, Vaatu Concealer™.  You cannot win."

She then proceeded to assault Bolin's face with the offending powder, creating an enormous, billowing smoke cloud that effectively filled the incredibly cramped and unventilated bathroom.

"CAN'T.  BREATHE." Mako wheezed, reaching blindly for the restroom door handle.  A flurry of movement and several coughing fits later, the motley crew managed to stumble out of the bathroom mostly unscathed, each sprawled on the floor of the restaurant in a hacking fit.  

One confused young male patron stepped over the group, reaching for the bathroom door.

"No, don't!  If you value your life," Korra gasped, reaching her hand out dramatically.  

Bolin, blush smeared across one cheek, added, "Yeah, we did a real number in there - you may never make it back out."

The customer looked on the group with disgust before returning to his table.

Exasperated, Mako sat up blearily and said, "I think it's time - you're ready."

 

* * *

 

Korra spotted the infamous location quickly - the bar, aptly named "Southern Attractions", was oozing with hole-in-the-wall, dive-y vibes. 

She heard Bolin gulp, smoothing out his dark green, low-cut button-up blouse and tugging his clip-on hoop earrings restlessly.  He anxiously tucked his top into his gray pencil skirt, which clung snugly to his fishnet tights. 

Mako had selected one of his typical “ _don’t mess with me_ ” outfits, consisting of tight-fitting, dark-wash blue jeans, a long-sleeve grey shirt, and all-black low-top converse, (always) accented by his red scarf.  Korra sported one of her “ _don’t mess with me, but yes, my ass_ is _available to check out from the Wan Shi Tong library_ ” ensembles, made up of a light blue tank top hanging loosely off of her brawny frame, black denim pants, and a pair of well-worn moccasins.

They made their way inside the low-end establishment, Korra and Mako each holding one of Bolin's hands for support (and stability - his experience in heels was pretty much nil).  All three were immediately barraged with a smelly concoction, mixed equal parts body sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes. The stage was lit with Sin City back-alley red, the drag queen hostess addressing the crowd zealously.

"Ladies and Oh-so-gentle men, my name is Queen Laqueefa, and it's my great pleasure to bring you our weekly attraction, the Buuuuurly-Esque show!  The only show in town where thunder thighs and knee highs are the perfect compromise!"

"Well, that's my cue I suppose."  Bolin puffed his chest and pulled up his garters, looking as confident as ever as he strutted on stage with his fellow skirt-wearing beef cakes.

The music started blasting, and all the other participants seemed to sink into a familiar rhythm.  It took Bolin a few moments to acclimate to dancing alone in a 2 by 2 foot space in his new get-up, but he was getting by.

Korra and Mako helped him remain fueled, buying him the manliest beverages on the menu to counterbalance the pencil skirt they had shoved him into.  But soon enough, Bolin had drinks coming his way from many of the audience members, and eventually wasn't able to keep up with the free, quasi-sacrificial cocktail alter.

He began pushing drinks off on Korra, which she happily accepted.  Mako, on the other hand, was running around like a mother hen, trying to cap Bolin's drinking (you can only fall off the stage three times before you're kicked out of the chorus line, and Bolin already had two strikes) and keep track of the now drunk, roving pervert that was Korra.

(“I’m not a  _pervert_ , Mako!  I’m a highly qualified critic!” she proclaimed, flexing her muscles and hiccupping simultaneously.)

Somehow Bolin managed to remain standing until the show concluded at midnight.  He carefully stalked off stage, leaning over to Korra to say, "My poor tootsies - I don't know how you ladies do it."

Korra snorted and indicated to her moccasins, "I don't.  But damn, Bolin, look at your cash stash!"

"Right?  I guess Bo-lin's got some  _moves_ , huh?" Bolin enthused.

"I'll say."  A deep voice rumbled from behind.

"Why thank you, Mak-" Bolin stopped abruptly when he realized the voice belonged to a young man roughly his age that was most definitely  _not_  his brother. "Oh um, hi!"  He stuttered out.

The young man laughed, "Hey there – the name’s Wei." He stretched his hand out, shaking Bolin and Korra's hands.  "And this is my brother, Wing."

He pointed to another man that was literally identical to him in every single way.  Korra had to do a quick double take to determine if there were two Weis, two Wings, or just too many drinks in her bloodstream.

"It's nice to meet you both.  My name is-"

"Oh, we know.  Smokin' Bolin, right?"  Wing asked humorously.

"Oh god, is that the name I chose?!” Bolin turned to Korra agitatedly and whined, “Why didn't you help me pick a better stage alias!"

Korra shrugged and offered a guilty grin.  "I was too busy, uh…  _critiquing_  another contestant that had hamstrings from God, I shit you not.... I am sorry!"

“Worst.  Bro.  Ever.”  Bolin threw his face in his hands.  "Ugh, 'Smokin Bolin' sounds like I should be wearing leather chaps and-"

"I wouldn't be opposed-" Wei interjected.

“Weiiii-” Wing groaned.

"Leather would be a HUGE hit Bo-" Korra began enthusiastically.

"HELP!" Mako cried uselessly from somewhere in the bar, as an unknown number of patrons insisted that he would 'looooove' the skinny girl margarita specials.

"How about 'Nut-tuck'?" asked a clear, high-pitched voice, breaking through the din.  A beautiful green-eyed woman, appearing to be only slighter younger and shorter than Wing or Wei, stepped through the crowd, placing a hand on Korra and Bolin's shoulders.  Bolin felt his heart beat in double-time.  "You look like a 'Nut-tuck' to me."

Bolin’s mouth gaped, a dribble of drool forming at the corner of his Viva Glam-stained lips. Unwilling to see her friend flail, Korra unsubtly bra strap-snapped him out of his reverie.  "Oh right, yes yes, 'Nut-tuck'!  That sounds much better, I like that better."

"So, first night in stilettos?" She asked, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, this was my big debut."

"Leave it to my brother to find the fresh meat." She smiled cunningly at Wei, who shrugged innocently.

"This is your first time here, Opal - you don't know  _what_ type of meat I go for,” he threw Bolin a grin.  “Though I do appreciate a rare steak on occasion."

"You've scarred him enough for one night, don’t you think, Wei?"  She warned charmingly.

Turning to Korra, she continued, "And who might you be?"

Unfortunately, Korra's mind was still hung up on 'Nut-tuck' imagery and Jack & Cokes, rendering her completely incapable of producing any intelligible response.

“I am Hair and Makeup,” she finally proclaimed, giggling maniacally.   _I’m a clever mummafunka._

She sloppily high-fived herself, which to the rest of the world, really looked like an uncoordinated attempt at a single, pathetic clap.

Opal eyed Bolin, giving him a once over, causing him to blush furiously (though it was impossible to notice, as 17 layers of Vaatu Concealer™ had settled on his face thanks to ‘Hair and Makeup’). 

“Impressive.” She concluded with a wink, turning her attention back to Korra.

“Oh!” Korra, noticing Opal’s flirtatious interaction with Bolin and finally remembering her duty as Bolin’s creeper buffer, pointed at Bolin and shouted.  “And he is absolutely, positively,  _not_  single!”

“Oh my  _Goddddd_ ,“ Bolin groaned miserably.

“That’s never stopped me befo-” Wei muttered before Wing put his hand firmly over his brother’s mouth.

Opal appeared amused, releasing a melodic laugh only slightly drowned out by the bar’s music.  “And what about you then?  Are  _you_ single?” Opal asked Korra, one eyebrow raised slightly.  A beat of silence passed before Opal’s brows furrowed suddenly and she reached out for Korra’s forearm, “Hey wait, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Just then, Mako burst onto the scene, appearing exasperated, his cheeks mauled with red lipstick stains.

"WE ARE LEAVING.  RIGHT NOW."  He looped his arms around Bolin's and Korra's, making a very awkward six legged beast, what with Korra barely able to stand and Bolin leaning asymmetrically with only one stiletto remaining.

"I hope to see you next time, Nut-tuck, Hair and Makeup!" Opal called after them.

"Amen to that, sister," Wei relished as the crew narrowly escaped Southern Attractions.

 

* * *

 

"This is  _more_  than enough to satisfy the Team Fighting Championship tournament fee," Bolin joked, throwing a wad of crumpled ones and fives on the coffee table/work desk/Pabu's performance stage/sleeping surface when necessary. Aside from the table, the apartment was sparsely furnished, consisting of just a couch, two folding chairs, and two loft beds that sat above the living space.  He flopped down on the sofa, an airborne cloud of sweat-induced humidity and glitter surrounding his face.

"It's a great start," Mako said reassuringly, hovered over the bathroom sink and wiping the lipstick smears from his face.

Korra wanted to offer support, but instead immediately and drunkenly face-planted into the carpet, and then proceeded to remain lifeless on the floor.

Pabu, Bolin's not-so-legal-in-California pet ferret, scurried from Bolin and Mako's loft and scrambled on top of Korra's head.

"...does that mean Burly-Esque is here to stay?" Bolin asked, nervously pulling at his fishnet tights.

 "I mean, this is way more than what you make as a cleaner at the gym.  And it is slightly less degrading, somehow...?"

Bolin pouted, peeling off his fake eyelashes.  "Mako, you know I am going to make trainer soon!" He proclaimed, to which his brother looked on with disbelief.

“You wait and see, one of these days, a trainer is going to be late or get sick or (god forbid) get hit by a crazed moped-er that may or may not have been paid to do so, and then Toza is going to come straight to me when he needs me most and I will save the day and lead the senior citizen aerobics class."

Mako held his hands up in the air, palms towards his sibling.  "Chill out, Bolin - it's not like my job at the amusement park is any better, and I mean, Korra is a whimsy-less Mary Poppins at Tenzin’s zoo," Mako huffed.  "Why else would I agree to help you find size 13 Goodwill heels for a drag show on my lunch breaks?  We really need the cash - and a serious upgrade in occupations."

Bolin released a dramatic sigh, "Well, I'm willing to take one for the team –  _this team_ , just to clarify - all and all, I'm not too emotionally traumatized from the night’s events."

"Pfft.... You just want to get Opal's diiiigiiiits," Korra drawled into the carpet, marking her first sign of vitality.  “And just for the record, Mako, I am whimsical as fuck.”

"What?!"  Bolin exclaimed a little too quickly, clutching his glitter-coated chest.  "You think I want to get Opal’s number?!  Tha- that is just ludicrous!"

Mako turned to Bolin, giving him his best 'don't give me this shit' lip purse.

"…Okay, whatever, so I think her hair is great and her smile gave me temporary heart palpitations," he admitted, guiltily.  He turned pointedly to Korra with a slight frown, "But I don't stand a chance!  I mean, not only did you tell her I was off the market, but she was totally checking _you_  out, even though your drunken stupor prevented you from remembering your own name, let alone forming simple sentences."

“To be fair, Korra was only deploying the Taco Bell bathroom-devised anti-wingman plan you requested…” Mako inserted.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?! You weren't even there!"

"Mmm," Korra hummed approvingly, “green eyes are nice-y nice.”

Bolin whined pitifully, throwing his head back against the couch, “Hers are  _perfect._ "

"Bolin, shut up," Korra moaned, turning on her cheek to face Bolin, forcing Pabu to slide off her head unceremoniously.  "She totally wants in your pants...skirt... or whatever."

"Well, it looks like we will have plenty of time to find out," Mako muttered, thumbing through and counting the cash.  "I hope you have a few more performances left in ya, Nut-tuck."

"Ugh," Bolin groaned, dragging a facial wipe down the bridge of his nose, streaking makeup across his cheeks, "I am afraid the show must go on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, come on. If the crew lived in SF, The origins of Bopal would totally involve drag, and Opal's split sexual tension between team Bro-rra, guest starring inebriated!Korra and crossdressing!Bolin and obscene amounts of glitter.
> 
> Right?
> 
> (Oprah help me)


	2. Mako Meets Salami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who decided it was a good idea to give Azula a bumper car, anyway?

**Chapter Two: Mako Meets Asami**

_With your feet in the air_

_And your head on the ground_

_Try this trick and spin it, yeah_

_Your head will collapse_

_But there’s nothing in it_

_And you ask yourself -_

-        Where is my Mind, The Supervillians (Pixies Cover)

 

* * *

 

Mako reached listlessly for the announcements page loosely taped to the operator deck.

 _Another one?!  Oh, for the love of…_   "Okay everybody, let's all give a warm round of applause for Azula, who is turning seven today - happy birthdayyyy, Azulaaaa..."

His mundane monotone reverberated over the speakers, accompanied by sporadic claps and a few drunk adult hoots and hollers, including a misdirected "GOOOOOO ACURA!"

Mako groaned in misery.

He had never been the most enthusiastic ride operator.  Today, he was assigned to bumper cars, a fairly simple attraction to manage.  Rarely any electrical malfunctions, relatively uncomplicated operations, and never any nausea or injuries.

 

Except during Frozen-themed 7-year-old girl birthday parties.

 

Seemingly from nowhere, a hot pink bumper car with streamers ( _Seriously?  How did the parents even get those on there?_ ) came screeching into the center of the bumper car arena, the driver adorned in a flashy birthday party hat, pupils blown with adrenaline and drunk with power.

"Oh no..." Mako muttered to himself, watching as what was certainly the birthday girl began to rampage through the arena, slamming her pimped out ride into other unsuspecting patrons while belting various Elsa lyrics.

"CAN'T HOLD IT BACK ANYMOOOOOORE," the particularly innocent looking girl with pigtails bellowed at a boy, who watched her with what could only be described as pure terror from his green bumper car before she rammed into his side.

"NO RIGHT, NO WRONG, NO RULES FOR MEEEEEE," the birthday celebrator continued, zooming through the bumper car rink, other bumpers trying desperately to stay out of her destructive path. "LET THE STORM RAGE OOOOOOOOOONNN!"

"Ooooooo-kay, ride is over," Mako announced through the intercom.  "Please step out of your cars and make your way to the exit on the left."

He turned to observe the current ride queue, preparing to give instructions.  His eye twitched slightly as the birthday girl stomped her feet excitedly, screaming, "AGAIN, MOMMY! AGAIN!"

Mako swore he felt the hair on his head drain to white.

"Aaaaaand it's time for break," Mako said to himself, standing up and stretching for the radio.  "Hey Skoochy, can you take over for a minute?  I need to be... anywhere else."

"Sure thing, boss."  Skoochy affirmed over the walkie talkie, appearing at the ride operating station just a few moments later.

Mako closed his eyes and pointed directly to the screaming girl in line, "Do not be fooled by her small stature - she is a code red: whiplash hazard."  He gripped Skoochy's shoulder and squeezed it slightly.  "Good luck, brave soldier."

Skoochy saluted, and immediately resumed slouching in the operator chair.  He rattled off ride guidelines as everyone loaded their bumper cars and belted in.

Mako could hear the bumpers power up, their familiar hum droning in his ears.  His exhaustion from the crew’s Southern Attractions escapade the previous night had left him dragging, and he just wanted to go take a nap in the vending machine room.  He stepped off the operator platform to jump the fence into the remainder of the park when he heard a loud gasp released from behind.

Next thing he knew, his feet were in the air, his body rolling on the bumper car strip.  His body ached, and his head spun.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head tenderly, "Owwwww...." he groaned.

"Oh my god, I didn't see you!"

He opened his eyes slowly, vision beginning to focus, "How could you _not_  see me?!  I was..." he trailed off as his sight narrowed in on an angel splitting the entirety of the bumper car rink in half with a blinding light, her long black tresses dancing across her shoulders.

"Are you alright?!  I'm so sorry!" She uttered, panicked by his silence and apparent brain damage.

"Oh... OH."  He soon realized that the bumper car rink hadn’t really dissipated into thin air, and that this woman was actually an angel of death, seeing as she was the one to plow over him with a bumper car, typically a non-lethal vehicle.  But - he watched her perform an immobilizing hair flip and decided – _meh, an angel none the less_.  "It's okay, my brother beats me up harder than this in practice, so... I'll live."

"MAKO YOU ALRIGHT?!"  Skoochy bellowed over the intercom, concern painted on his face.  His hand hovered over the ride operation button, all cars currently uncharged.

"MOMMY MAKE IT WORK," the Frozen birthday girl screamed, slamming her steering wheel aggressively.

“IS THIS GOING TO BE A WORKER’S COMP THING?” Skoochy’s voice echoed in the PA system.  “YOU KNOW HOW ZOLT FEELS ABOUT WORKER’S CO- MA’AM!!!  PLEASE GET BACK IN THE VEHICLE!”

Mako turned to find that Azula had freed herself from the bumper and scaled a pillar on the side of the rink.  Her hair was loose, and she hung on to the beam with only one arm, watching the arena with crazed bemusement.  People were screaming.

"Yeah yeah, Skoochy, don't let Elsa have a conniption."  He stood slowly with some help from his assailant, brushing his light gray amusement park button-up and straightening out his scarf.  "Here, let's get out of the rink."

"Ugh, I am  _so_  embarrassed," the woman mumbled as she put her hand over her face and blushed, head shaking.  "You have to let me make this up to you somehow - maybe over dinner?"

 _(Wait, what? Is this actually happening?!_   Mako thought in disbelief.  _I knew this scarf was money.  Chick effin Magnet.  Suck on THAT, Bolin.)_

"Ah, I unfortunately have to get back to that...joyful birthday bash in a few minutes," he turned back to find the birthday star relentlessly slamming into fellow bumpers that she had pinned in the corner - the two passengers were holding each other desperately and begging for mercy.

“Maybe a rain check?” He asked, hopeful.

“Sure,” the girl responded warmly.  She stuck out her hand, “My name is Asami.”

“Mako,” he replied, reaching his hand out to meet hers.

“Again, I am so sorry.  Here, take this,” she removed a small notepad from her bag, scribbling down some digits.  “Contact that number if you need to see a doctor, or when you want an all-you-can-eat apology.”  She smiled bashfully.  “Have I told you that I’m sorry yet?”

Mako laughed softly. “Will do, Asami,” he agreed, twiddling his thumbs nervously.  “Well, my break is probably about over, so I need to be heading back now.  I’ll text you?”

“Sounds great,” Asami replied with a kind smile.

He watched her saunter off, his head slightly dizzy from nerves and excitement.

 

Or, maybe not, actually.

“Skoochy, since when were there three of you?”

“…what?  Mako, what are you talking about?”  The Skoochy trio stood up from the operating panel, which was a bit overwhelming for Mako.  “You okay, man?”

“Whoa…” Mako said, teetering from side to side.  Bright spots began flying in and out of his field of vision.  “I’m not feeling too well…”

Then Mako fell directly into a retired bumper car (a casualty in the horrific Red Slushie Vomit Incident of 2009) and promptly passed out. 

 

* * *

 

“Put this one down in the history books, people!” Korra exclaimed, one hand in the air with her index finger pointing towards the poorly lit (and slightly molding) practice room ceiling.  “Korra managed to beat Mako to morning practice!  WOO HOO!”

“You’re still twenty-five minutes late,” Bolin observed, looking around the room with concern.  “Yeah, no, something isn’t right, Korra.  He didn’t come home last night either.”

Korra’s arms dropped to her sides as her brows furrowed.  “Wait, what?  Bolin!”

He threw his hands up guiltily.  “I didn’t think it was a big deal!  The last time I initiated a search party on his behalf, I organized, like, _half_ of the city to find him…which consequently means half the city walked in on him in his work break room during his ‘alone’ time.”

“Oh god!  I don’t want to hear this!” Korra exclaimed, covering her ears.

“It’s not what you think!  It’s actually far worse – I guess his ‘alone’ time actually means wearing a bathrobe and belting hits from the _Phantom of the Opera_ soundtrack.” 

Korra’s eyes went wide.  “He never disclosed this.  Even when we were dating.”

“Korra, he was singing all the female parts.”

 Her jaw hit the practice mat.

“It was terrible.”  Bolin visibly shuddered.  “I never thought he would forgive me after that.”

“Okay, has he tried to contact you since the end of his work shift?  Seriously Bo, mister stick-up-his-butt would never miss practice.”

“You’re right - time to rally the troops, even at his dignity’s expense!”

“I’ll go get Naga from outside – she’s a great tracker.”

“And I’ll bring Pabu!  He’s a great… um… emotional support companion?”

Pabu rolled his eyes disbelievingly as the group hurriedly exited the practice gym.

 

* * *

 

Korra scanned the bumper car rink swiftly, noting the various evidences of mass destruction.  Several of the support beams for the arena were collapsed, with at least five cars flipped on their sides, clearly out of commission.  The entire area was sectioned off by caution tape.

Naga, Korra’s large fluffy Pyrenees, pointed her nose at a bumper car along the side of the rink, howling loudly.  Bolin approached the car cautiously, his eyes wide.  He reached in hastily, retrieving a red scarf.

“MAKO?!”  Bolin cried out, tears threatening to burst from his eyes.  “MAKO, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Skoochy, what the hell happened here?”  Korra inquired, hands on her hips.

“Dude, there was just no stopping the carnage,” Skoochy said, eye twitching.  “It all happened so fast.”

Korra peered around the operator deck, finding smashed plastic Frozen plates and torn streamers cast about the scene.

“What happened to Mako?”

“Oh, Mako?  He wasn’t here for any of this.”

“Wait, this war-torn rink doesn’t mean Mako is lying lifeless in some emergency room bed right now?”  Korra asked, hopeful.

“Oh no.  Mako is most definitely in the hospital.”

 “HOSPITALIZED?!”  Bolin looked about ready to faint.  He clutched the red scarf passionately. “Merciless fate, spare him please!”

“Yeah man, this like, supermodel ran him over with a bumper car.  It was crazy.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?!” Korra demanded, hands in the air.

“I did – we followed protocol.  Called his emergency contact.”  Skoochy held out a document and waved it in front of her face.

Korra snatched the paper and scanned it quickly, turning to Bolin with a narrowed glare.

“Bolin, why is Mako’s emergency contact section scratched out and replaced with ‘Pabu <3 XOXO <3’?”

“KORRA, I AM IN NO STATE TO DISCUSS THIS.”  Bolin was curled in the bumper car, the scarf wrapped around his face.

Korra turned back to Skoochy, growing impatient.  “Where is he right now?”

Skoochy shrugged sympathetically, “I’m sorry – I actually can’t tell anyone that information except the listed emergency contact, so…”

“Skoochy.” Korra deadpanned, “Pabu is a ferret.”

“Seriously?  How did you manage to get a ferret into California?  My sister has been trying to smuggle one in for years but–”

“MAKOOOOOOO.”  Bolin cried, bordering hysterics.

Korra reached into Bolin’s jacket, removing a surprised and cantankerous Pabu.  She suspended him limply in front of Skoochy, Pabu releasing a perturbed chirp.

“Here’s your ‘emergency contact’,” Korra clipped, one eyebrow raised in annoyance.  “Now tell us where Mako is.”

 

* * *

 

“I am afraid your brother has suffered a mild concussion, but other than that, we expect him to make a full recovery.”

“BRAIN DAMAGE?!”

“No sir, a concussion – he will be back to normal in a few days, a couple of weeks at most.”

“IT’S TERMINAL?!”

The doctor raised her eyebrow.  “Um, no sir.”  She turned to Korra, who was jumping up and down, trying to peer behind the swinging emergency department doors.

“You two are welcome to go see him, room 24E – he’s been asleep ever since he came in last night, but now that he has someone to take him home, we can help him wake up and release him within the hour.”

“RELEASE HIM TO THE HEAVENS?!  WE ARE TOO LATE, OHHHHH GODDDDD.”

The doctor wore a nervous frown, stealthily reaching out to grab Bolin’s wrist, reading his pulse to ensure he wasn’t on the fast-track to becoming another patient.

“Thank you doctor, we’ll get the discharge paperwork on the way out.”   Korra said, waiting for the staff to open the door to the hospital wing.

“Of course, contact us if his condition changes.  We know you have our number on speed dial, Korra.”

Korra smiled bashfully, “Ha… of course… you always remember your Most Valuable Patient, Dr. Yugoda.”

“My most reckless patient is more like it.”  She eyed Korra, eyebrow still raised.  “Your friend in there is pretty banged up - didn’t realize your antics were contagious.”

Korra shot her an apologetic grin before yanking Bolin beyond the hospital doors.

 

* * *

 

“Honestly, Bolin, I am fine.”

“You’re concussed - your opinion is no longer valid, Mako.”  Bolin said authoritatively, donning a pink kitchen apron and waving a spatula in the air.  “Korra, Pabu, Naga, and I are going to take care of you, and that’s that.”  Korra nodded enthusiastically, sitting on the floor of Mako and Bolin’s apartment. 

Mako opened his mouth to protest, only for Bolin to demand, “And you are cuddling with me and Pabu tonight so we can monitor your condition, no ifs, ands or buts about it.”

Mako frowned deeply, replying, “I just can’t believe how far in the hole this hospital bill leaves us – I have to take a week off of work, and now we have an emergency room visit fee to contend with.”  He rubbed his temples in frustration.  “We might as well kiss the tournament goodbye.”

“No way, Mak-Jose,” Korra said, waggling her finger at Mako, who was seated on the couch.  “I won’t let this tournament slip from our hands – so you just set your worry cap down and focus on fixing the bruise in your brain.”

“Yeah, Mako!  Korra and I can take care of everything for a few days – sit back and relax.”  Bolin poured the soup from the stove into a small bowl, carrying it over to Mako.

“You made soup?  Why were you waving a spatula around –“

“Mako, you’re concussed!  Stop trying to figure out the whys and hows – who knows if what you see is even real!  You are probably hallucinating!”  Bolin exclaimed, waving his hands wildly.

“I’m not – ugh, okay, I’ll just stop asking questions.”  He sipped the soup carefully, then smiled teasingly, closing his eyes.  “Thanks Bo, Korra.  For coming to my rescue, even if it was a day late.” 

“Psh, I’m not your keeper – just the _finely_ sculpted hero, showing up in the nick of time,” Korra boasted, flexing her arms.

“Hey Mako, question,” Bolin requested, looking to his brother while pushing his small chef’s hat back upon his head.

“Yeah, Bo?”

“Do you remember anything about the accident?  How it happened?  Who hit you?”

Mako furrowed his brows, digging for even the smallest thread of memory.

“This makes absolutely no sense,” he sighed, defeated.  “But all I can seem to remember is…a beautiful Salami angel…?”

“…does insanity count as a symptom?” Korra whispered to Bolin behind her hand, eyes wide.

“I mean, I was kidding about the hallucination thing but – maybe he is just famished and needs more soup?”  Bolin said hopefully, yet rather unconvincingly.

"Guys, I am concussed, not crazy."  He tried to stand quickly to emphasize his competence, but failed and winced due to his post-pedestrian/bumper collision headache.  "Listen, I don't know how, but Salami has something to do with my accident.  I just know it."

"...I always thought Mako would make a great detective, what with his natural brooding state and innate skepticism, but now I’m having my doubts."  Bolin said to Korra worriedly.

Mako groaned frustratedly, allowing his bandaged head to flop against the sofa cushion.

"Tell you what, Mako," Korra put her hand on his shoulder, promising, "I don't know who this…uh, ‘Salami’ fella' is, but we are going to find them, okay?"

"Yeah!" Bolin yelled enthusiastically.

"And we are going to make sure they take responsibility for this hospital bill."

"Yeah!"

"And they are going to cover your missed work wages."

"Yeah!"

"And then we will eat them."

"Yea- wait, what?"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Korra shrugged, hardly stifling her self- induced laughter as Mako glared across the sofa.

(“At least she isn’t trying to high-five herself this time,” Bolin mumbled.)

"But seriously," Korra continued stonily, cracking her knuckles, "Salami is gonna pay."


	3. Mako Meets Wu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say Phantom of the Opera duet?

_One way or another, I’m gonna find ya_

_I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya_

_One way or another, I’m gonna see ya_

_I’m gonna meet ya, I’ll meet ya_

-        One Way or Another, Blondie

 

* * *

  

So far, the search for the infamous ‘Salami’ assailant had proven fruitless (pun intended, according to Bolin). 

Progress included a white board diagram in Mako and Bolin's tiny kitchen/living room/bedroom/investigation briefing space reading:

"EVIL SALAMI did it with a BUMPER CAR OF DOOM in the NOT-SO-AMUSING PARK"

This was accompanied by a rudimentary depiction of the entire scene contributed by Bolin - the salami may or may not have been wearing a Darth Vader helmet and Mako may or may not have had little x's for eyes in the final panel.

 

Meanwhile, Korra's interrogation tactics proved to be an utter disaster.

Bolin and Korra showed up to the amusement park in torn, sleeveless shirts and sunglasses, arms rippling for a “taste of revenge,” as Korra explained.  Korra had slapped a baby bib on Naga and painted the symbols "K-9" on the fabric with black paint, coupling the bib with a pair of stylish aviators sitting atop Naga’s snout.

Bolin and Korra looked at each other and nodded silently, swiftly ambushing Skoochy’s operator panel.

"Whoa!" He said, startled to discover two very serious Agent Smiths staring him down.  "H-hey guys.  What's going on?"

"We want to know who was here the day of Mako's accident," Bolin requested.

"We want answers, and we want them _now_ ," Korra said forcefully.

Naga growled furiously in the background, bib flapping intimidatingly in the wind.

"Yo okay, that’s all good.  The birthday girl from that day is here right now - apparently she lost some 'friends, enemies, and honor' amongst all the damage, which I’m pretty sure she means that she can’t find her teddy bear?  So they are here looking for that.  Her name is Azula - maybe she brought that person as a party guest?"

"Very well.  You are released from questioning."  Korra stated, pushing her sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"Coolio.  Also, like, might wanna get your dog checked for rabies."

“Well, that was absurdly anti-climactic,” Bolin uttered disappointedly as they walked away from Skoochy’s operating deck.

“Don’t worry, Bo,” Korra said, pointing to Azula, who was already glaring at the duo + dog from across the park.  “She’s definitely got information to spill.”

Korra and Bolin marched towards the seven-year-old, Naga baring her teeth.  

"Hello, Azula."  Bolin said accusingly.

"...what are you supposed to be?" She asked suspiciously.

"I'm an awesome and tough super spy!  Obviously."

“So you’re spying on me?”

Bolin clasped his hands over his mouth guiltily.  “I’vesaidtoomuch,” he mumbled into his palms.

“Azula, we have some questions for you.” Korra recovered coolly.

“Concerning?” she calmy asked, eyes raking over her own nails nonchalantly.

“The events that took place two days ago around roughly 4:47 pm.  At the bumper car arena.  I’m sure you know it well.”  Korra crossed her arms confidently, flexing for added effect.  “Our friend was there – said he got hit by a bumper car.  Know anything about that?”

“Lady,” Azula mocked with a smirk, “a _lot_ of people got hit with bumper cars.  It was a great birthday.”

“Okay, well, our friend got hit by a rogue bumper car while he _wasn’t even in one_ – does that ring a bell?”

“Oh that scrawny guy?  Poor thing.  He didn’t stand a chance.”

Korra bristled.  “He is like, 5 times your size!”  She furrowed her eyebrows and huffed, “Okay sassafras, I’m gonna need you to tell me who bulldozed over my friend that day.”

Azula peered at the pair dubiously, lips sealed.

“Just tell us what you know, and there won’t be any problems.”  Bolin said, stepping flush with Korra.

“My mom is gonna be out of the bathroom in like, 30 seconds,” she said matter-of-factly.  “And then you guys are in big trouble for harassing a youth.”

“Just spill it already!” Korra yelled impatiently.  “We will get you an ice cream or something.”

“Make it spicy fire flake nachos and you have a deal.”

“Fine!”

“Okay, so, the person you’re looking for was invited to my party, but I don’t really know her, and she always gets stuck with the boring adults, so I can’t tell you much.”  Azula shrugged nonchalantly.

“All I know is that she is a pioneer, has green eyes, and” – she gauged Korra carefully – “she is definitely way taller than you are.”

“WHY I OUGHTA-“ Korra started, shoulders tensing.

“Okay okay!  Thank you,” Bolin said as he escorted Korra about 15 feet away from the small child.  “That’s…more information than we had before, though not particularly helpful in any way, amazingly.  And a pioneer?  So like, was she driving a horse-drawn bumper car or…?”

“I don’t have any more information for you, super spy.  But you better go buy me some nachos before I tell my mom all about this and make a scene.”

“Yes ma’am!” Bolin said obediently, scurrying off to the concessions cart.

Needless to say, Korra and Bolin returned to the apartment dejected, refusing to disclose that a seven-year-old girl foiled their entire covert Salami operation.

 

* * *

 

“Ready for round 2, Bolin?”

“Is that a serious question?”  Bolin groaned, realigning his tights.

The week had wrapped back around to another Tuesday night in the city.  The crew could see the “Southern Attractions” neon light blinking faintly at the bottom of the hill.

“You got this, Bolin!”  Korra encouraged.  “And I won’t tell the love of your life that your pants are off limits this time.”

“Kill me now,” Bolin muttered, clumsily making his way into the bar, leaving a sad trail of glitter tears in his wake.

 

Once inside, Bolin squeezed through dancing bodies to get to the stage, earning a few tips before the music even started.

“Glad you came back,” a deep voice crooned in his ear.  He turned to find Wei smiling mischievously, two cocktails in his hands.

“Oh Wei, hey!  Yeah, I’m trying to gladiator my way to the stage, but it’s more difficult than I thought it would be.”  Bolin frowned and shrugged, looking towards the performance platform.

“Here, drink this.”  Wei extended his hand offering Bolin a cocktail.  “Opal wanted you to have it.  ‘Liquid courage’ she called it.”

“Opal?!”  He looked around for her excitedly, but was disappointed when he saw no trace of Wei’s sister.  “Did she not come to see the show tonight?”

“Oh no, she is definitely here.  Looking for ‘Hair and Makeup’ I think, something about becoming your cheer squad.”

Bolin couldn’t help but beam at the information.  He cheers-ed with Wei before downing the cocktail in one gulp, exhaling “FOR OPAL!” as he charged the stage.

The music started shortly thereafter, and Bolin stumbled back into what was absolutely not his element.  Still, the tips and cocktails flocked to his skirt line steadily.

Opal found Korra soon after, beckoning her with two cocktails in hand.

"Oh hey, Opal."  Korra smiled, making her way towards the space Opal saved.  She dragged Mako along by the hand.  "This is Mako, Bolin's brother."

Opal transferred one cocktail off to Korra, reaching out her then-free hand to shake Mako’s.  "It's very nice to meet you, _Mako_."  She emphasized the last word and looked at Korra from the corner of her eye, saying playfully, "at least I _know_ what your name is."

Korra slapped her own forehead shamefully, "Oh wow, I am sorry, I didn’t realize - my name is Korra."

Opal’s eyes went wide with surprise, as though the name had some significance beyond belonging to a girl she met at a drag show. 

Whatever epiphany she experienced, however, she kept to herself, recovering swiftly and remarking, "Well then, _Korra_ , that drink is for you."  She indicated the cocktail she handed her.  "Sorry Mako, I wasn’t aware there were two drag brothers or I would have brought another beverage."

"...I don't do drag."

"Really?" Opal replied disbelievingly.  "Your eyebrows suggest otherwise."

Korra fought and failed to stifle a laugh, choking on her cocktail.

"Can't a man gel his eyebrows in peace?!"

"Not paired with that scarf."

Korra ungracefully spat her drink all over Mako.

Mako brushed off the liquid with a scowl and huffed indignantly, swiftly turning on his heels.  "I am going outside for a bit."  He stormed toward the front door.

"Shit, hey," Opal said worriedly, grabbing Korra’s shoulder.  "Did I offend him?  I was joking, I swear.  Should I go buy him a drink and apologize?"

"Mako’s just a big sensitive baby, he will be fine," Korra reassured with a wink.  “Plus, he is slightly concussed and can’t even drink anyway.  Speaking of, thanks for the cocktail, Opal.”

“Of course,” she said lowly, “anything for ‘The Avatar’.” 

Korra’s whole body locked up, the breath rushing from her lungs.  Eyes wide, she spun toward Opal speechless before she heard a confident:

“I knew it.” 

 

* * *

 

  _*5 MINUTE SMOKE / SENSITIVE EMOTIONZ BREAK MAKO*_  

 

Mako sat on the concrete curb, stretching his legs out and feeling the night air against his cheeks.  He pinched the edge of his eyebrows self-consciously, as he started romantically humming the melody for “ _The Music of the Night_ ”, his go-to comfort number.

 

To his great horror, someone began to harmonize.

He whipped his head around, trying to identify the anonymous vocalist.

“Hey sug, relax.”  Queen Laqueefa, the host of the show, emerged from under a brick archway, cigarette hanging from her lips.  Her wig was in her right hand, and her left held a large ice pack to her face.  “It’s okay - queens love a good show tune.”

Mako stood up, concern washing over his face.  “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine.  Comes with the territory,” she muttered, waving her wig in the air.  “Some people just don’t like men in sun dresses.”

“Who did this?”

“Don’t really have any names - some asshats called the ‘Triple Threats’ like to come around this neighborhood and wreak havoc.”  She frowned, only half visible behind the ice pack.  “It’s too bad, you know.  Between the property damage costs repairing their vandalism, and the constant threat of violence to our patrons, it looks like Southern Attractions will have to close its doors soon.”

“What?!” Mako exclaimed, hands fisted.  “Their intolerance is going to get this whole place closed down?!  What the hell!”

“Didn’t know you had such an attachment to the establishment – now, I know I didn’t peg _you_ wrong because I am _never_ wrong.”  She took a lazy drag from her cigarette.  “What about this has got your panties all up in a bunch?”

“Sorry, my name is Mako.”  He extended his hand for the second time that night, shaking the hostess’ sympathetically.  “My brother is in there – Nut-tuck.”

“That explains the handsome face – runs in the family, clearly.”  She said with an amused smile.  “My name is _Queen_ Laqueefa, or Prince Wu when I am out-of-gown, in the light of day.”

“Prince?  Are you royalty?”

“Honey,” the hostess said, bringing her arm down that was holding the ice pack.  Mako noticed a sizeable, sweltering black eye, with a few large gashes peppering her cheeks.  The contrast was jarring – one orbit swollen and discolored, next to a rather beautiful green iris surrounded by fake lashes and perfect pink eye shadow.

“Don’t let the black eye fool you.  I am royalty _in_ or _out_ of the dress – royalty is a state of mind.”  She stubbed out her cigarette on the sidewalk and reset her wig over her naturally short, wavy black hair.

“I am really sorry this happened to you,” Mako apologized, not knowing what else there was to say.

“Mmm, you’re sweet.”  She reached up and patted his cheek affectionately.  “It’s too bad you know – Nut-tuck had a good run.  Would have been nice to see you up there, too.”

Mako furrowed his brows, suddenly struck with an idea.  “Actually, wait a minute.”

“Need to borrow a dress, sweetheart?”

“No, but I think I might be able to help you save Southern Attractions.”


	4. Salami meets Korra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> turns out the avatar is both enamored with and infuriated by salami angels. who knew.
> 
> (aka DRAMA LLAMA ALERT)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i still want to write about bolin in drag. and then proceed to share such tangents with you poor souls. i have a cursed mind.

_Gorgeous girl, my special lady_

_You’re so gorgeous to me_

_Gorgeous girl, the most elegant woman_

_The world has ever seen_

 

 _- Gorgeous Girl_ ,  Jan Baynard

 

* * *

 

 

_“Anything for ‘The Avatar.’”_

Korra felt her throat dry and her chest tighten, the title echoing through her ears. 

“I knew it.”

Her tongue remained tied, not knowing what to say in response to Opal’s claim.

“A new haircut doesn’t really suffice as a disguise,” Opal continued teasingly, mussing Korra’s shoulder-length hair affectionately.  “Seems like you may need to take some tips from these drag queens.”

“Ha!  Maybe so,” Korra said finally, nervously staring toward the stage before downing her cocktail in one swig.  “It’s been a while since anyone has called me that.”

Opal tilted her head to the side contemplatively.  “I knew I recognized you last week.  My mom, my brothers – the entire family, we are all huge ‘Avatar’ fans.”

“Thanks,” Korra said softly, eyes slightly downcast.  “Sorry you haven’t seen me in the ring lately.”

“You’re sorry?!”  Opal exclaimed, furrowing her eyebrows.  “Please, your _re-runs_ are still the best MMA matches I’ve ever seen.  I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

Opal reached for Korra’s forearm excitedly.  “You know, I’ve wanted to train in MMA ever since I was young, but my mother constantly said ‘unless the Avatar her-damn-self is your teacher, I won’t let you even try’, ha!  If only she could see this.”

“Are you still interested in some lessons?”  Korra asked thoughtfully.  “I love helping women interested in MMA to get started, I used to teach all the time!  Though maybe you’d rather accept tutelage from a fighter a little less washed out.”

Opal clapped her hands together in excitement, “Are you serious!?  I’d love to – are you sure you are okay with that?  I heard all about the… the _incident_ … and I just figured you weren’t even actively fighting anymore, and so…”

 

“Excuse me, do you two know where the ladies' room is?”

Both Opal and Korra turned to find a stunning woman with long black hair staring back at them, hand pointing in a random direction with her eyebrows raised.  “Sorry, can’t find a lot of other ‘women’ in the audience to ask.”

 “Oh, the restrooms here are inclusive – so, take your pick.”  Opal pointed behind her to the left, where there were a few nondescript doors with several people lined up outside.

 “Thank you – I’ve been in these clothes all day and am dying to change into something more… reasonable.”

 Opal and Korra noticed the woman’s ensemble, admiring the executive style skirt and the form-fitting blazer, layering a striking red blouse, all complimented by a pair of charming black ankle boots.

 “Maybe Nut-Tuck needs to borrow _her_ business suit,” Opal whispered behind her hand while pointing her opposite thumb in the woman’s direction, to which Korra nodded enthusiastically, still not taking her eyes off of the lost damsel.

  _Who wears a suit to a drag dive bar?_   Korra thought, befuddled, and mind a bit foggy from the chugged cocktail.  _Maybe a super elegant pimptress with some kind of crazy kink dungeon._

 

Or, at least, Korra _thought_ she thought, the thought she had thought that she thought.

 

The woman looked to Korra with a smirk, her gaze unwavering.  “A woman still on the clock, that’s who.”  Korra slapped her hands over her own mouth in horror.  “And I assure you I am in a different line of business.”

  _Oops._

“What type of work do you do, then?” asked Opal, attempting to salvage the conversation and Korra’s dignity.

 “Odd jobs, mostly.”

  _Come on, Korra,_ she chastised herself.  _Use your words - something redemptive.  Think think think._

 “Odd jobs?  Really, in a suit like that?”  Opal continued, surprised.  “I am starting to support the pimptress theory.”

 “You could say I wear a lot of hats,” she offered, shrugging nonchalantly.  “This evening, I am a structural engineer, conducting earthquake retrofitting consultations – I hope my suit says all that so I don’t have to try to deliver that title again.  It’s quite a mouthful.”  The woman waved her arm over her body in a large gesture, her hair falling gracefully across her shoulders as her momentum stopped.

 

Korra had no idea what half of those words meant - her mind was currently short-circuiting.  Between the effects of the cocktail, the heat of bodies dancing, and the reflection of the strobe light in this woman’s jade eyes, Korra could only think:

_Exquisite._

 

“Really now?” The woman tossed a wink.  “Don’t worry – I’ll assume you meant the suit.”

  _Goddamit._

“Speaking of, if you two don’t mind, I am going to change – will you ladies be sticking around?”

“We are his cheerleaders,” Opal said, pointing fondly towards Bolin, who was currently swirling his hips to a Shakira classic.  “We aren’t going anywhere.”

The woman sent a small smile towards the duo, pushing away through the pulsing audience.

“Wow, ‘the Avatar’ rendered practically speechless twice in one night?  It’s quite the occasion,” Opal snickered.  “After seeing how much you used to shit talk in the ring, frankly, I’m surprised.”

“I… need another cocktail.”  Korra said, staggering off to the bar in a haze, Opal cackling ruthlessly in the background.

Korra returned to the cheerleading zone to find that the business woman had also made her way back to Opal, and they were talking and laughing jovially.  The enigma had changed into a simple black long sleeve shirt with a deep neckline, and fitted blue jeans.  Her hair stayed down, and her skin remained flawless under the club lighting.

“Cosmopolitans for the ladies,” Korra said, handing off two glasses, bring a third glass back towards her chest.  “And a whiskey and coke for-“

“The unrefined brute that has a habit of blurting drunk commentary to beautiful women?” Opal inquired teasingly. 

Korra shook her dark brown drink between her thumb and index finger, the ice clinking against the sides, offering a lopsided, apologetic smile.

“Actually,” the business woman asked, appearing contemplative, “can I be the ‘unrefined brute’ for a moment?”  She reached for the whiskey and coke, her fingers brushing against Korra’s, causing Korra’s entire body to freeze and melt all at once.  Thankfully, they were surrounded by a sea of people that appeared to be seizing to music, so it went unnoticed.

“I am going to find my brothers – looks like Bolin is about to finish up,” Opal said knowingly, patting Korra’s arm lightly as she passed by.

“So…”  The woman said, completing her trade with Korra of the cosmo for the whiskey cocktail, then tucking a strand of hair behind her own ear, almost nervously.  “Do I get to call you something other than brute?”

“I’m Korra,” she said with a light flush, sipping gingerly at the cosmopolitan while extending her hand out for a handshake.

“Beautiful name,” the woman replied, looking at Korra in a way that made Korra gush.  It left Korra in such a daze that she almost didn’t notice the woman’s hand bypassed hers, and instead reached into Korra’s own back pocket, retrieving her (scratched, dented, and sad excuse for a) cell phone.

“My name is A-sam-i,” she enunciated each syllable as she entered in her contact information, sliding the phone back into Korra’s rear right pocket, Korra praying that Asami didn’t feel the shiver her actions caused.  “And I normally don’t do this, but-“

 

“Korra!” Someone bellowed across the bar.  Korra turned to discover Mako walking briskly towards her, an excited smile plastered to his face.  “Korra, you are not going to believe what just happened!  I think I may have just found a way to pay for the tourna-“

“…Mako?!”  Asami interrupted.

“Wait - Mako, you know Asami?”  Korra asked, rapidly shifting her gaze between the two, confusion consuming her features.

“Have we met?  I don’t think….” Mako started, cocking his head slightly to look at the woman.

 _Asami, Asami…._ Mako ground his brain, looking for some connection.  He turned back towards this Asami character just in time to catch what could only be described as uncontested perfection – the woman executed a slow-motion hair flip worthy of an Olympic gold.  His mind suddenly flashed back to a memory of bright light, and he saw Asami emerge from the glow, long black hair billowing in a heavenly wind, surrounded by insufferable theme park music and a seven-year-old’s maniacal laughter…

“Ohhhhhhh my god.”  Mako’s face went white.  “Salami.”

  _"What_.”

 _“What.”_   Korra and Asami uttered simultaneously.

 

Bolin, Opal, and the twins returned from the dance floor all flushed faces and smiles, stumbling directly into Mako’s conclusion.

“Asami…Bumper Car…Angels…Elsa...Salami…”  Mako stuttered incoherently.

“…who is this _clearly_ inebriated yet incredibly dashing fellow?”  Wei leaned in to Opal to ask.

“Korra, why is Mako talking about Salami?”  Opal inquired, ignoring Wei’s question.

“Should he be showing symptoms like this?” Korra asked Bolin, eyebrows still furrowed. 

“What?  Symptoms?  Angels?  Is this guy bothering you guys?”  Wing questioned accusingly, cracking his knuckles.

“Please don’t punch my brother, I know he means well, even though we have no idea what he means at all!  And who is Asami?!”  Bolin asked, feeling incredibly left out, pouting in his plaid school girl skirt.

“ _I_ am Asami,” Asami finally spoke up and raised her hand, appearing disgruntled.  “Now where – or who – is _Salami_?”

“ _You are_.”  Mako hushed.  Mako peered between the members of the group, too shocked by his own epiphany to speak another syllable.

Korra, meanwhile, tuned out the various hollers from Bolin, Opal and her brothers as they begged for clarification.  She avoided acknowledging Asami as she looked to Mako with deep-rooted confusion.  She even managed to ignore the fact that Mako was casually and unknowingly pouring his complimentary “designated driver by concussion default” water all over her sneakers.

The gears were already turning.  It was too late.  Korra’s eyebrows shot to the top of her hairline as she erupted:

 

“I WAS DROOLING OVER _SALAMI_?!”

 

“Welcome to the club!”  Wei announced enthusiastically, raising his glass above his head.

“Why the fuck am I Salami?!”  Asami cried, clearly insulted.

“Wait, _you_ are the bumper car bandit?!”  Bolin yelled, pointing his glitter smeared hand at Asami. “Weird, you don’t look anything like a pioneer.”

“Why the fuck am I a pioneer?!”

“This is better than _Who Got Away With Murder_!”  Wei exclaimed, clapping Wing’s shoulder approvingly.

“You hit Mako and gave him a concussion!”  Korra accused, now face to face with Asami and poking at her ribs.

“ _What!_   Mako, you are concussed?!”  Looking perplexed, Asami turned to Mako without backing down from Korra’s challenging stance.  “Why didn’t you _call_ the phone number I gave you for making apology dinner plans?!”

“Whoa Mako!  You got a phone number and a dinner date, even with the scarf and brain damage?!  Color me surprised.”  Bolin quipped.

“I didn’t remember that I got your contact information… or made dinner plans… until right now…”  Mako said, exasperated.  “You did that hair flip thing of yours, and then my memory came rushing back.”

The entire group released a communal ‘ahh’ of admiration, remembering the holy event.

“Okay, regardless – he missed a week’s worth of work!  He has an enormous ambulance and hospital bill!”  Korra said aggressively, glaring up at Asami.  “And his brain may never work again!”

“My brain is _fine_!”

“I _didn’t know_ any of that because he never called me!”  Asami glowered down at the shorter woman, standing nose to nose with Korra.  “Otherwise I would have offered to take care of everything, which is an offer that still stands, obviously.”

“And I suppose dinner is off the table–“

“Mako, stop while you are… already so far behind.  Just stop.”  Bolin comforted, patting the top of his head lovingly.

Asami and Korra’s death glare continued, both women practically baring teeth and snarling.

“Okayyyyyy, everybody, Nut-tuck put on a great show, yeah?”  Bolin said, smiling cheesily through his smeared lipstick.  “Why don’t we all take a breather – step outside for some fresh air?”

“It’s okay – we were just leaving anyway.  You know, with Mako being in recovery and all,” Korra reported curtly.  “C’mon guys, let’s go.”

“Mako,” Asami looked towards him, softening, “I hope you can accept my apology – I had no idea… get in touch soon, and we can discuss what I can do to help.”

“Definitely.  Thanks Salam- I mean, Asami.  And,” he paused, contemplating, “I’m sorry, I realize I actually don’t even have the note you passed me with your number.  How would you like me to get ahold of you?”

“Oh, well,” she turned towards Korra, frowning disappointedly.  “I’m sure you can talk to Korra about that.”

 

Korra huffed and stormed away from the bar furiously, her right ass cheek feeling ablaze the entire way home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 **_Unkown:_ ** _Hey Korra  :)_

 **_Unkown:_ ** _This is Opal, got your number from Bolin, hope that’s cool_

 

 **K** :  oh heyyyyyy girl

 **K:**   Bolin finally got your digits, hm?

 

 **_O:_ ** _hahaha, i actually asked for his_

 **_O:_ ** _or, disclaimer - wei did, and told bolin that i was asking for his number_

 _**O:** _ _which, now that that is in Wei's arsenal,_ _Bolin's innocence may be in immediate danger...  
_

**_O:_** _all the same, a win-win for the beifongs_

 

 **K:**   you all are Beifongs?! 

 

 **_O:_ ** _yeah – you heard of us?_

 

 **K** :  of course! basically royalty in the city, what with Mayor Suyin Beifong running this joint

 **K:** …and I may have had a run in or two with the police chief

 

 **_O:_ ** _god, has my aunt handcuffed the Avatar?!_

 

 **K:**   ;)

**_O:_ ** _great now i have to work on getting those images out of my head_

 

 **K:**   you totally inflicted that pain on yourself

 

 **_O:_ ** _speaking of inflicting pain, you still down for giving me a few lessons?_

 

 **K:**   with or without the handcuffs?

 

 **_O:_ ** _ha!  my mom will probably want to be a spectator for the occasion so we will need to behave_

 

 **K:** don’t worry, the avatar can just woo the mayor of San Francisco, and eventually the entire beifong clan

 

 **_O:_ ** _I don’t doubt that you will_

 **_O:_ ** _want to stop by on Thursday morning, maybe around 10?_

 

 **K:** sure, on one condition

 

 **_O:_ ** _name it_

 

 **K:** i get to bring a friend along

 

 **_O:_ ** _Deal.  I’ll bring a friend too – gonna need someone to hold on to the handcuff keys_

 

 **K** :  not like that!  This friend is for you, trust me

 

 **_O:_ ** _And who said my friend isn’t going to be for you?_

 

 **K:**   ???????

 

 **_O:_ ** _See you Thursday, Avatar  ;)_


	5. Korra fights Asam-urai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And learns there may be more to this woman than meets the eye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do i keep doing this to you all

 

“So, you’re going to work security detail then?”

“Yeah, exactly.  Patrol the entire bar, make sure no one shows up to cause trouble, no funny business.”

“Korra won’t even be allowed in anymore with that criteria, then.”

Korra smacked Bolin’s arm lightly, laughing.

“Who are these guys anyway?  You said something about Triple Threats?”

“Yeah, it’s a bunch of guys living in the city, but outside of city laws.  They are real shady, deal in business that isn’t particularly…wholesome.”

Bolin shuddered before standing and walking to toward the loft, “I am going to grab my workout bag.”

“Southern Attractions functions as a bar at night, but during the day the space opens up for group therapy, community services, and music and art.”  Mako’s voice went quiet as he leaned towards Korra to say, “Honestly, I think this is a lot bigger than just some lowly street vandals.  They may even be involved with the Triad business.  They are known to prey on and recruit LGBT youth that wind up on the street – it’s in their best interest to shut down places like Southern Attractions, to keep their recruitment pool deep.”

“You sure know a lot about the Triple Threats, Mako,” Korra observed suspiciously.

“I’m just trying to be good at my new job – it’s how we are going to make it into the tournament, okay?”  Korra noticed the tension and wisely chose to drop the subject.

 

…Only to switch to another, somehow more confrontational topic.

"Sooo, you and Salami sure have been spending an _awful_ lot of time together."

"Yeah, well, _Asami_ wants to make sure that I recover."

Korra scoffed, disgruntled.  “I don't know how you can trust her.  I mean, who commits a hit and run, in front of children no less, and then leaves the victim with a head injury to fend for themselves?”

“Korra, can you just lay off her for a second?”  Mako requested sternly.  “She feels guilty enough.  Plus, she’s actually really great, if you’d take the time to get to know her.”

“Oh, you think so, hm?”  Korra bristled.  “Go on ahead, keep swooning over the assailant responsible for your medical emergency and permanent skull deformity!  You guys should just date and get married already!”

“It was a _bumper_ car, she’s not a criminal.  And, who knows, maybe I _will_ date – Wait, what?!”  Mako’s hands flew to his hair with insecurity.  “My- my head is shaped fine.”  Mako huffed frustratedly.  “You are impossible.”

“Ha!” Korra barked loudly, crossing her arms.  “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I leave you two alone for _two minutes_ and you’re already at each others’ throats!” Bolin wails, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.  “Come on, Korra, let’s go pick on someone your own size.”

 

* * *

 

"Are you and Mako ever _not_ going to fight within any 24 hour period?"

"Sure!  Whenever I visit home."  Korra said snarkily.  "Or die."

Bolin rolled his eyes.

"Oh, oh!  And remember the time he was unconscious due to that Asami-induced concussion?  That was pretty close to an entire day of absolutely no confrontation."

"Are you saying you can only tolerate Mako when he is not communicating with us or in a relatively vegetative state?  You used to have _sex_ with him, you know," Bolin practically gagged out.

"Hey, you say that like _I'm_ the one that knocked him out."  Bolin raised an eyebrow flatly.  "....okay fine, I didn't knock him out _this_ time. You know as well as I do that practices get rough."  She shrugged nonchalantly.  "But really though, what is up with him trying to hang with _her_ , all of a sudden, all of the time."

"...Is it not obvious?"  Bolin asked incredulously.  "I mean, I can list of a few reasons that would make just about anybody hang with Asami."

"Yeah yeah, I know.  She is a business-owning, super beautiful, elegant, prissy, rich girl, blah blah blah."

" _And_ she is super smart and funny and nice - hell, she even contends with  _you_ in those categories.  Plus, you know she has only bent over backwards to help Mako out these days - giving him rides everywhere, daily check-in phone calls - it's quite doting and cute actually."

Korra blanched, causing other Bay Area Rapid Transit riders to gawk, to which Korra responded with a no-nonsense stink eye.

 _Powell station.  This is a Daly City bound train._ The announcement echoed through the train car.

Korra turned to see the station signs whip past her as the train started moving, grateful for the distraction.   "We are almost there Bo - are you excited?"

"...yes?" Bolin squeaked, face paling.  His hands gripped the BART seat in front of him, knuckles turning white.

"Bolin, you are Opal's special surprise - do try to look a bit more excited.  Besides, she already likes you as a burly lady.  She is totally gonna go for your sensitive dude qualities."

"You really think so?"

"Absolutely!"  Bolin couldn't resist allowing a toothy grin to spill over his face.  "I know you two have been texting nonstop - she's in to you.  Plus, we're sparring, so take your shirt off and you'll be golden."

“Then that means your shirt needs to stay _on_ , Korra.  You know none of us can compete with _that_ ,” he waved his hand carelessly, “physique.”

“I will make no such promises.”

"Ugh, and I still have glitter on my chest from Tuesday.  Shit is persistent."

"I have a feeling that Opal won't mind that one bit."

 

* * *

 

“Holyyyyy guacamole.”  Korra peered around the outside of the manor, her reflection staring back at her through various metal structures and glass windows.

“Yeah, Opal’s dad is an architect apparently.  She mentioned that he designed the estate – very modern and cutting edge, while also hyper-energy efficient.”

“She told you all that already?”  Korra smiled deviously.  “She is going to love that you are here to see it in the person, then.  She gets to give you the Opal Beifong tour, including the pool, the gym, the bedro-.”

“Didn’t you mention that Opal was bringing a surprise guest for you too?”  Bolin squeaked, desperate to change the subject.

“Yeah, but I have no idea who _that_ could be.  Maybe some super cool legendary fighter!”

“Hey kids,” Opal’s voice rang through the front lawn as she practically bound to the duo.  She wrapped both Bolin and Korra in an enthusiastic hug, kissing their cheeks as she backed away.  “You won’t guess who the special guest is, but I will say that they _are_ legendary, and definitely stand their ground as a fighter.”

“Yes!”  Korra called out, thrusting her fist in the air.

Opal faced Bolin with a large grin.  “I was hoping you were my special surprise.  You look great, _Sir_ Bolin.”

Bolin practically beamed.  “Just you wait – I’ve got even more moves in the ring then I do on stage!”

“Really?  I had a Shakira playlist all lined up.  I wanted all of the bases covered, just in case.”  Opal smiled charmingly as Bolin chuckled.

“Okay so where is this _other_ special guest?  And a practice mat?”  Bolin looked down at his attire.  “And a bathroom, I guess.”

“Here, this way to the locker rooms.  The men’s is on the right.”

“You have locker rooms?!”

Opal wore a broad grin.  “My mom is a dancer – she still trains and dances sometimes, when she can.  Anyway, she insisted that we have dressing rooms th-“

“That will double as locker rooms when the Avatar shows up at my doorstep.”  A middle-aged woman only slightly taller than Opal stepped out from the back door of the manor, walking gracefully towards the group.  “I said it in jest, but what is a mayor if not her own word?.”

“Mayor Beifong!  Wow, it’s quite an honor to meet you.”  Korra reached her hand out in front of her, which the mayor accepted happily.

“Please, call me Suyin.  And that goes for you as well, Bolin.”

“Ha, I guess I really wasn’t much of a surprise if you already know my name,” Bolin reiterated, holding his hand out to Suyin as well.

“Please, make yourself at home.  I’ll meet you at the mat.”  Suyin took her leave, heading further into the yard.

“Alright, come on Bolin, let’s go change!”  Korra grabbed his hand excitedly and took off for the locker rooms.  “It’s time for me to pummel your girlfriend!”

“…it’s almost like you plan to say these things.”

 

* * *

 

Bolin and Korra rounded the corner to the practice mat, both sufficiently pumped and bouncing on the balls of their feet.

“Now remember Bolin, Opal wants lessons from the _Avatar_ , not the Glitter Monster.”

“I already told you I tried to get rid of it!”

“Well, luckily for you, Opal is one of the few people that _might_ take a glimmering chest seriously, but -” Korra halted dead in her tracks, jaw agape.  In addition to Mayor Suyin, seated calmly in the viewing bleachers, and Opal staring back at Korra with the most _cunning_ smile of all time, Korra spotted another woman currently putting her hair up in ponytail.  Headband wrapping her forehead, sporting a red tanktop and black shorts; from behind it may have been tough to properly identify her.

Except for her hair – the way it flipped effortlessly from left to right, leaving all in its sights dazed and confused.

That could only be one person.  One pioneer.  One salami angel.

 

Asami.

 

“NOPE.”  Korra concluded, throwing her towel over her shoulder and turning 180 degrees on her heel to march out.

“Korra, no, please!”  Bolin backtracked and threw his hands up in front of her.  “This might be my only chance – I _really_ need a wingman here, Korra.”

Korra looked wholly unconvinced.

“You said it yourself!  She invited us here to see the Avatar, not some gym cleaner that wears dresses on Tuesdays.”

“Oh, Bo…”  Korra looked up to see him peering down at her, sporting the biggest puppy dog eyes in history.  “Ugh…FINE.  Fine.  But only if you never talk about yourself like that again.  You are _amazing_.  And Opal will see that today, if she doesn’t already.”  Korra huffed and whipped back towards the arena, throwing her bag on one side of the practice mat as Bolin released a huge sigh of relief.

“Alright, who is ready to get their ass kicked!”

 

* * *

 

“Weren’t you saying that you haven’t sparred before?”  Korra said, mirroring Opal’s motions.

“I’ve only learned from watching my own brothers spar with each other,” Opal got out between heavy breaths, circling around the mat.  “Behind my mother’s back, of course - she never wanted us to get involved in the whole fighting scene.  But they never listened, and I never tattled so they let me observe.”

“You’re a total natural, then,”  Korra said sincerely, throwing some faux punches toward Opal, forcing her to square up defensively.  She noticed Opal wipe her brow.  “Wanna take a break?”

“Yeah, but you don’t – Bolin, get over here and keep Korra occupied.”

Bolin puffed his chest with pride, “Of course, Miss Opal!”  He stepped up on the practice mat, beckoning Korra with his palm.  “Come show us what you got, Avatar!”

 

Opal stepped down from the mat, grabbing a towel and a water bottle, squeezing the contents over her face.  She walked over to the viewing ledge, finding Asami leaning with her arms crossed over the top bar.

“Wow.  It really is her.”

“I knew as soon as I saw her at Southern Attractions.  I’d recognize those biceps anywhere - she is definitely the Avatar,” Opal claimed, drying off her hair.

“So she didn’t know I would be here, huh,” Asami asked with a raised brow.

“I had to make sure you both would show up,” Opal replied apologetically.  “I mean, watching the Avatar grapple with Bolin is plenty entertaining, but this” - she waved her hand between Asami and Korra – “was too perfect of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Well, I am glad _you_ see it that way – pretty sure Korra would rather _I_ was splayed out under a bumper car somewhere.”

“Or under an Avatar, on a sparring mat, somewhere.”

Asami shot Opal a death glare, but Opal caught the fleeting blush that shaded her cheeks.

“Sooo…on that note.  What’s up with you and Mako?”

"Nothing as far as I am concerned."  Asami sighed, pinching her brows together.  “I mean, I certainly didn’t anticipate meeting two of the most attractive people I’ve ever met, in the same week, and then for them to know each other _and_ have a dating history.”

“And to play for the same team.  In more ways than one.”  Opal suggested with an evil grin.  “Do you happen to have a preference?”

“Between men and women?  Or between Mako and Korra?”

“Both.”

“I imagine you have to have a choice first, before a preference matters.”

 

“That’s it, I’m done, I am _done_!” Bolin began slapping the practice mat rapidly.  “You are so ruthless – haven’t you caused me enough pain, woman?!”

Korra cackled maniacally in the background.

“So, what’s it like to spar with her?”

“Ugh, dreamy as hell,” Opal practically moaned into her towel.  “You’re next, so get ready.”

Asami started, stammering, “W-What?!  I am not prepared to fight the _Avatar_!”

Opal smiled, eyes narrowed with mischief.  “I am betting on the fact that the Avatar is not going to be ready to fight _you_.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Asami stepped onto the mat, Korra couldn’t resist the arrogant grin that pulled at her lips, having secretly been waiting for this moment ever since she conceded to Bolin’s pleas to stay and spar.

“Hey _sweetheart_ , you know you don’t get a bumper car in this ring, right?”

Asami smirked, adjusting her ponytail.  “That’s okay.  I question whether or not you meet the height limit for”- Asami gestured to herself - “this ride, anyway.”

Korra huffed lightly at the taunt.   _Oh, this is going to be fun_.

“In fact, can we get a ref out here to clarify eligibility?” Asami asked haughtily.

“Tell you what.  I’ll let you measure for yourself, if you manage to pin me on the mat for more than five seconds.”

“Deal.”

Bolin rang the match bell, and the two women began squaring off, circling each other defensively.  Korra broke the stand-off abruptly, throwing two powerful left hook-right hand crosses.  Unfortunately for Korra, Asami anticipated the cross punch, effectively evading the hooks and countering the crosses with her right forearm.  Korra grunted and stepped backward, frustrated.

“Nice one, princess.”  Korra panted out.

“Thanks.”  Asami said, with an insulting wink.

 _She is just trying to get under your skin.  Be patient_ .  Korra remained on the offensive, throwing low kicks and quick jabs here and there, but with no purchase.  Asami had some _serious_ ninja skills.  Korra began wondering if she’d trained with some unknown League of Assassins; her movements were so fluid and rapid.  Korra had never fought against anything like it in her life.

Fortunately, Korra was also *ahem* _the_ fucking _Avatar_ , master of all things MMA.  And so, Korra waited for an opportunity to strike.  This came as Asami completed a rounded kick – she lost her footing just barely before squaring her feet.  Korra saw Asami’s eyes widen with realization as she swung her body upright, attempting to maintain a balanced stature.

Korra clicked her tongue confidently.   _Gotcha_.

Just then, Asami executed a devastating pony-tail hair flip, effectively locking all of Korra’s muscles in place.

 

_WHAT THE HELL, BODY, MOVE!_

 

But it was too late.  Asami capitalized on the momentary lapse in voluntary movement, swinging Korra’s legs out from under her.  Korra landed face down on the mat, her hands barely jutting out in time to catch her fall.  She attempted to roll off her wrists and spring back to her feet, but Asami had already thrown her legs over Korra’s back, wrapping her arm around Korra’s neck and pressing her chest to the back of Korra’s head, effectively pinning Korra’s cheek to the mat.

Korra peered out her periphery to find Asami with the smuggest, most ominous (read as: beautiful) full-toothed smile she’d ever seen.  Asami served Korra another wink before mouthing the words, ‘One.  Two.  Three.’

“…such…a….cheater…” Korra gritted out, as Asami counted the rest of the way to five.

Bolin rang the bell enthusiastically to mark Asami's victory, and Korra stood to make her way to the locker rooms, grumbling the entire way.

 

* * *

 

Asami wiped her brow and, after a hearty congratulations from Bolin and Opal, headed into the locker room to change.  Upon entering, she heard the shower water running in the background.  Trying not to focus on the fact that Korra - the _Avatar_ Korra, the had-Asami’s-number-in-her-phone-but- _hates_ -Asami Korra - was showering a mere ten feet away, she began fiddling with her locker, attempting to retrieve her gym bag.

The bench was covered in various workout attire, including a faded, torn up TFC jersey that read ‘Fire Ferrets’ with a rather tragic drawing of a ferret ironed on to the front, undoubtedly Bolin’s handiwork.  She looked for an official jersey lying about but, based on the wear and tear on this article of clothing, she assumed there actually _wasn’t_ another, more professional version.

_How is the Avatar’s TFC team not sponsored?_

The water to the shower turned off, and Asami began to panic slightly.  Not only had she not changed, preventing her from escaping the locker room without appearing crazy to Bolin and Opal, but she had already noticed the gym clothes scattered across the bench, meaning that Korra must not have taken a change of clothes into the shower with her.

 

Oh.

_‘Asami Core System Shutdown in 3.’_

 

OH.

_‘2.’_

 

OH NO.

_‘1.’_

 

She heard the curtain draw back, and stood helplessly as the fucking _Avatar_ stepped out from the shower, only a small towel wrapped around her incredible form.  Her right arm was wrapped loosely around the front of the towel, her other hand thoughtlessly squeezing water from her hair.

Asami couldn’t really help what happened next.  It was entirely involuntary – a reaction that should never be held against her, but that she will probably never live down.

 

“ _Wowza_.”

 

Korra’s eyes flew up, meeting Asami’s immediately, full of surprise.

Again, involuntarily, Asami squeaked.  She. fucking. _squeaked_.

If she could have walked out in front of a bumper car, she would have.

 

_‘Asami system software: rebooting.’_

She awaited Korra’s response, only to be met with…laughter?  Actual, genuine laughter.

“Really?  ‘Wowza’?”  Korra managed between guffaws.  “Who is the unrefined brute, again?  And you can't even use alcohol as an excuse!”

 

_‘Reboot complete.’_

“I wouldn’t be the one talking such smack if I were you, considering I came here on a mission.”

“What?  To change into your Chanel sundress?”

“Not quite.”  Asami smiled, twirling her right index finger in the air, a measuring tape coiled around the digit.

“…you have got to be kidding me.”

Asami grinned villainously, dropping her hands down to pat her thighs.  “Come over here, oh mighty Avatar.”

“You are positively evil.”

“I seem to recall that these were your terms, not mine.”

Korra released a weary sigh.  “Nothing is on my terms when you’re involved.”

 

* * *

 

“What the hell, Opal?!  You have a scrimmage with the _Avatar_ and you don’t tell the rest of the family?!”

“I knew you guys would just make her play your tackle-frisbee-golf game if I said anything.  Meanwhile, I actually learned something.  She told me I’m a natural.”  Opal shot a triumphant smile at her brothers.

“She _is_ a natural.”  Korra affirmed, walking up beside her.  “What do you say you come train with me on Angel Island sometime?”

“Wait, people actually live on Angel Island?  And train?”

“Yep, a group of traditional monks have a small temple there.  I’m currently staying with them – they’d love to have you come study, if you’re interested.”

“Uh, absolutely!  Just let me know when.”  Opal said excitedly.  “Thank you, Korra.  You’ve been a great teacher so far.”

“You’re a pretty incredible pupil yourself, Opal.  You’ll be a top MMA fighter in no time.”

“Ha!  My mother’s worst nightmare, coming true because of you.”

“I thought I was supposed to woo the entire Beifong clan?”

“If that’s your goal, then trust me, my mother is the _least_ of your worries.”

 

* * *

 

 **Unknown:** Hey, princess

 

 **_Asami:_ ** _So the Avatar does talk outside the sparring ring_

 

 **K:**  yeah, well, I just wanted to say nice match yesterday

 **K:**  kept me on my toes, didn’t peg you as much of a fighter

 

 **_A:_ ** _Can’t be afraid to mix it up sometimes_

 

 **K:**  So, I was wondering…where did you train?  You’ve got some evasive techniques I’ve never even seen before

 

 **_A:_ ** _Well, I’ve been in self-defense classes ever since, hm…_

 **_A:_ ** _yeah, ever since I was about your height_

 **_A:_ ** _that sounds about right_

 

 **K:** …

 **K:**  I never should have wagered with the measuring tape

 

 **_A:_ ** _maybe something a little more…exciting, next time?_

 

 **K:**  getting my measurements while practically naked wasn’t exciting enough, huh?

 

 **_A:_ ** _I never said that, but_

 **_A:_ ** _I am_ _sure you will think of something_

 

_You got it, princess._

 

* * *

 

“Yo Korra, can you come take a look at this please?”

“Yeah Mako, what’s up?”

“This is an anonymous package – no sender.  Were you expecting anything to be delivered to our apartment?”

Korra placed her phone on the counter and rounded the corner of the kitchen to find Mako sitting on the sofa, the box in his hands.  “No…do you think it could be from the bar?  Or the Triple Threats?  Maybe they found you out?”

“I don’t think so, but…well, here goes nothing.”

Korra peered over Mako’s shoulder to see some packing peanuts lining the top of the box.  Once Mako brushed those away, he removed the true contents of the package.

_What the…_

“It says ‘Fire Ferrets’, and our names are printed along the back…looks like three complete uniforms.  And look at this picture of Pabu!  This image is incredible!”  Mako began swinging the jersey from front to back, admiring the sleek, professional attire.  “Who would send us these?”

Korra investigated the box, looking for any indication of who shipped such a luxurious package.  She lifted a small packing slip as Mako threw his jersey on, testing the length and material.  “Korra, try yours on too.  You know yours is always the most difficult fit, what with you being….a woman with…woman, things and…muscles...”  Mako trailed off, embarrassed enough for the both of them.

Korra set the slip down on the coffee table and slid into her jersey shirt, testing the sleeves with a good flex.

“Maybe these are from a crazed fan?  Or your parents?”

Korra retrieved the slip again, reading the message aloud.

‘ _To the Fire Ferrets_

_Soon-to-be Team Fighting Champions’_

“I don’t know for sure,” Korra sighed annoyingly, yet unable to fend off the small smile that crept across her lips.  “But I think I might have an idea.”

 


End file.
